Lousy Tipper

Tex Avery fills maybe a quarter of “Sh-h-h-h-h-h” with sign gags. The premise is the hotel where Mr. Twiddle is staying at is supposed to be quiet, so the communications are in silent signs. I like how the bellboy flips around one sign and it has three messages. No need to ask why it doesn’t have two (one on either side); it’s a Tex Avery cartoon.

Being a silent cartoon during this portion, the drawings say it all.



Ray Abrams, La Verne Harding and Don Patterson animate this, Avery’s last completed theatrical cartoon.

Martha and Emily

One of the great luxuries of the Jack Benny radio show is, eventually, he and his writers developed so many secondary characters that he didn’t need to have them on every week. He could bring them back once in a while so the show sounded fresh but familiar at the same time. Among the characters were two little old ladies named Emily and Martha. Benny made himself out to be a ladies man but these were the only ladies he could attract. The whole concept was funny. Their octogenarian status allowed the writers to come up with age jokes that didn’t involve Benny himself. The concept was later developed on the Benny TV show as a fan club of little old ladies, usually from Pasadena (what the link is between that city and elderly women, especially as it predates Jan and Dean’s song about one, is a cultural reference I don’t get).

Two veteran actresses were picked for the roles. Gloria Gordon played Emily while Jane Morgan was Martha. Their first appearance was on November 3, 1946. They actually didn’t appear very often together, only nine times, with eight of their routines broadcast during the 1940s. Besides the later “fan club” on the TV show, they were the inspiration behind a two-headed vulture (voiced by Julie Bennett) in the 1962 Bugs Bunny cartoon “Transylvania 6-5000.”

Emily has a slight English accent, unintentionally, I suspect because Gordon was English. Morgan’s voice should be recognisable to fans of situation comedy as she began a long tenure as landlady Mrs. Davis on Our Miss Brooks beginning in July 1948 (playing opposite Gordon’s son, Gale). She also played a landlady on My Friend Irma, which debuted in April 1947, but was replaced by Gordon through the series’ run on TV.

The two were profiled in Radio Life, a terrific publication for the Los Angeles area, on May 11, 1947.

Delightfully Devoted
You’ve Heard Them as “Martha” and “Emily,” Jack Benny’s Elderly Admirers. Now Meet Jane Morgan and Gloria Gordon, Two Ladies With Illustrious Careers in the Theater
By Joan Buchanan
“OH, MARTHA, isn’t that Jack Benny over there?”
“Yes, Emily—oh, isn't he handsome?”
Every time Jack Benny’s car pulls to a stop for a Vine Street traffic light, listeners to his Sunday show wait for the foregoing dialogue. Yes, it’s Jane Morgan and Gloria Gordon as “Martha” and "Emily,” Jack’s indefatigable fans, waiting for a glimpse of their “star.”
Ever since this whimsical twosome first made an appearance on NBC’s Benny show, we've promised ourselves that we'd look them up and find out if they really do feel that way about Jack Benny.
“Jack Benny is a dear,” exclaimed Jane.
“He’s a darling boy,” added Gloria.
“So easy to work with,” continued Jane.
“Absolutely pie,” concluded Gloria.
And that’s their word on the subject. Both Jane and Gloria have been in radio for many years. Gloria started in 1928, "and worked for a year, my dear, without pay!” Jane entered soon after, or “whenever it was that there was no more theater.”
Though neither Gloria nor Jane can recall working together before, they have been friends for years and their careers have paralleled one another’s surprisingly. Both were born in England. Gloria calls herself an old Liverpuddlian, the name for those born in Liverpool. Jane’s parents were Welsh and she admits that listening to “How Green Was My Valley” on “Lux” made her cry because it reminded her of her father. Both have been in this country for years, and Gloria proudly announced that she has voted in every election since becoming a citizen.
Both Musical

Both studied music—Jane was a violin, piano and voice student, Gloria studied piano and voice. Both appeared in opera and musical comedy before switching to straight dramatics. Gloria’s career encompassed tours that took her to every important European capital, and between them she and Jane have appeared with almost every great name in their lifetime. Jane was a Boston Opera Company star—“I’ve sung everything from ‘Jack in the Beanstalk’ to ‘Carmen’,” she added. In addition to opera, the concert stage legitimate theater, resident stock, pictures and radio have claimed the talents of this pair, though never as a team until now. Both were working with the Henry Duffy players locally at the same time—but in different companies.
Jane and Gloria have both known the adulation that goes with being a great star. "The movie people get it nowadays," Jane said. “And they’re welcome to it,” added Gloria pleasantly.
“I remember being rushed through the crowd waiting for me at the stage door and across the street to my hotel. People shouted, ‘Here she comes!’ when I came out!” recalled Jane.
“And the Stage Door Johnnies!” continued Gloria. “They don't have anything like that now.”
Both agreed that the old days were much more exciting and glamorous because the barrier between players and audience was much greater. “The illusion is gone now, and after all, show business is the business of illusion,” Jane sighed. “They’ve let the audience in on all the secrets,” said Gloria.
Believe in Credits
According to both our stars, radio is full of such talented young people as to be almost amazing. “Many of these young people are stars, great stars," they told us. “And so often they don’t even get name credit on a show. It’s ridiculous. If you went into a theater and they didn’t give you a program, you'd be indignant.”
Both are ardent hobbyists. Jane calls her new granddaughter, Mary Jane, and her garden, her two main interests. “I love to get into the earth and dig,” she laughed. “And I can't wear gardening gloves—I buy them, put them on, they fall off and the next time I dig in the garden I dig one up.”
"You must have Virgo in your horoscope,” commented Gloria. “Good at gardens.”
Gloria is a specialist in horoscopes and tin ware. She's made horoscopes for all her friends, including Jane. Jane also informed us that Gloria makes beautiful ornaments in tin ware—a very difficult craft to work in. They both retain their interest in classical music and are avid listeners to the fine music programs. “And heaven help me, I keep a diary,” laughed Gloria.
Gloria is mother of that fine radio actor, Gale Gordon, whom she terms a wonderful son and a wonderful actor. “I claim him as mine, too,” smiled Jane. “He’s so wonderful, I can’t let Gloria have him all to herself.” Gloria’s daughter, a playwright, has just completed a play for coming presentation, “Half Past Twilight.” The title is Gloria's contribution.
Real Character Women
Getting back to radio, both actresses have appeared on practically every network show originating from Hollywood. Neither has any idea how she landed on the Benny show. In spite of the fact that both characterizations complement each other beautifully and fit into the show like little jewels, Jane and Gloria think that they were called for the parts “because there aren't really very many character women in radio.”
“They are cute parts, aren't they ?” smiled Jane. “We would love to dress for them.”
“Long black dresses, little bonnets ...” visualized Gloria.
“Some people call us bobby-soxers,” explained Jane, “but I don’t see the characters that way at all. I think if I got that picure in my head, I’d give a wrong reading.”
“We’re bobby-longstockings,” laughed Gloria.
“I see the characters as two nice old ladies who happen to be crazy about Kack Benny instead of—oh—”
“Francis X. Bushman?” suggested Gloria.
“And isn’t Jack Benny a sweetheart?” Jane smiled.
“Such a handsome boy, too,” winked Gloria.

Morgan died of a heart attack in Burbank on New Year’s Day 1972 at the age of 91. Gordon died on November 23, 1962 at 81.

You can hear their debut on the Benny show by clicking on the arrow.

Animation Cosplay, 1926

The caption of this picture says it all. It’s from the Motion Picture News, March 20, 1926. If nothing else, it gives you a good idea of the huge popularity of Felix in the mid-‘20s. Within a couple of years, he was shoved aside by a Mr. M. Mouse employed by a Mr. W.E. Disney.

Bird Fight

Two birds fight over a worm taken from a fishing line in the Van Beuren short A Cat-Fish Romance (1932). Animation by Jim Tyer (courtesy Milt Knight).



The best scene may be the one where a, well, it’s fish of some kind. These early ‘30s New York cartoons had the lumpiest characters.



There’s a bit of reused animation from The Haunted Ship (1930), and I’ll bet the high-kicking mermaids were redrawn from somewhere else. (Note: Milt points out it’s from the Tom and Jerry cartoon The Rocketeers).

The highlight may Gene Rodemich’s enthusiastic arrangement of “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love, Baby” from the Broadway show Blackbirds of 1928. It’s sung by Margie Hines and a man whose name may some day be rescued from the bowels of history.

The Milky Way

Elaborate backgrounds and beautiful colour choices are the highlight of Rudy Ising’s The Milky Way. You can see the ending coming miles away, but the Motion Picture Academy ignored that and was bedazzled by artwork and cuteness in handing the picture the Oscar for 1940.

It’s a shame that Bob Gentle or whoever handled the backgrounds on this cartoon never got credit. Nor did the layout artist. Their work is tops. Here are some of the scenes from the second half, complete with highlights flashing and streams of milk pouring from the brushes of effects animators.



Daily Variety of September 8, 1939 mentioned the cartoon as one of seven in “in various production phases” at MGM. The studio may not have had more than a title. The publication mentioned on February 24, 1940 that Ising was putting it into production, adding “It will be a satire on astronomists.” Nothing about little kittens. Boxoffice magazine of March 2, 1940 reported Ising had begun production of the cartoon and was preparing Swing Social. It then blurbed on May 11th that Scott Bradley had completed scoring on the short.

Daily Variety of June 5, 1940 reported MGM found a clever way to promote the cartoon:

METRO and the National Dairy Council have gotten together on what is probably the most extensive cooperative exploitation campaign ever put behind a short subject. Benefiting is Metro’s Technicolor cartoon, ‘The Milky Way,’ release of which has been timed to fit in with National Milk Month, which opens this week from coast to coast. Newspaper ads, milk bottle tops, window cards, billboard and other bally outlets have been lined up. ‘Milky’ was produced by Rudolf Ising.

Boxoffice reviewed the cartoon in its July 6th issue:

The Milky Way
M-G-M (Cartoon) 8 Mins.
This is a highly imaginative and expert bit of whimsy that strikes a pleasant note. Telling of three kittens who voyage to the milky way, the production has a standard of artistic execution that sets it apart from the ordinary. Children will love it and adults will revel in its eye-filling color. Worth while.

Hollywood had a few oozing-with-kiddie-winsomeness voice actresses around this time. Berneice Hansell, known for her squealing animals at Warner Bros., provides one of the kitten’s voices, and I suspect another is Margaret Hill-Talbot, who played Sniffles at Warners. I’ll leave it to the experts to pick out anyone else in the cast. Same with the animators, though a wild guess is that Bill Littlejohn, Jack Zander and George Gordon worked on this cartoon, based solely on the fact they were at MGM at the time and spent time under Ising.

Somewhere on the internet, you’ll likely read that The Milky Way “broke the Disney streak of Oscars.” Well, yeah, it did. Because Disney didn’t enter anything that year in the ‘Short Subject: Cartoons’ category. Daily Variety of January 28, 1941 had the list of 14 cartoons screened by Academy voters on February 3rd:

‘Snubbed By a Snob,’ Fleischer; ‘You Ought to Be in Pictures,’ Warners; ‘A Wild Hare,’ Warners; ‘Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy,’ Fleischer; ‘Knock, Knock,’ Universal; ‘Puss Gets Boots,’ [sic] Metro; ‘Billy Mouse’s Akwakade,’ 20th-Fox; ‘The Mad Hatter,’ Columbia; ‘Western Daze,’ (Pal) Paramount; ‘Wimmin Is a Myskery,’ Fleischer; ‘Early Worm Gets the Bird,’ Warners; ‘Cross Country Detours,’ Warners; ‘Recruiting Daze,’ Universal, and ‘Milky Way,’ Metro.

It’s clear the Academy in 1941 was still enamoured with Disney, even the faux variety of Hugh Harman and Rudy Ising. But not for much longer. People like Hansell were soon out of demand as was the chirping female chorus that sounded more like it belonged in a 1934 short. New, loud stars—Bugs Bunny, Tom and Jerry, Woody Woodpecker—hit the screen as the world was plunged into a violent war. People wanted brash comedy. The time of oh-so-charming little kittens riding to a sky-land of milk had passed.

Warming to Groucho

What’s the easiest way to fill a radio column? Fill it with dialogue with one of your favourite shows.

You Bet Your Life debuted on radio on October 27, 1947. It starred the irreverent Groucho Marx going through the motions of a game show so he fill the air time with one-liners, generally at the expense of the confused contestant. You’d think such a concept would appeal to Herald-Tribune syndicate columnist John Crosby, no fan of game shows or the people who appeared on them. It didn’t at first. He panned it, though did he zero on what made the show so appealing.

It’s hard to believe Crosby actually thought “You Bet Your Life” was inferior to Jack Paar’s comedy/variety show which, frankly, was neither bright nor witty. Before his debut, Paar got a huge build-up as a new type of sardonic comedian and then never delivered on it on radio (blaming his failures on everyone but himself). Television helped both Marx and Paar. The latter finally was put into a late-night interview format that fit him. Groucho remained being Groucho. But on television, you could see him. His expressions were the one element that the radio version of “You Bet Your Life” didn’t have and may have been the one addition that pushed the show to popularity (it had bounced around among three networks on radio in 2½ years).

So we have a bunch of Crosby columns about the radio “You Bet Your Life.” You can read a TV review from November 21, 1950 HERE (the show first aired on TV the previous October 4th). This column was published December 9, 1947.

GROUCHO MARX PROBLEM
Something certainly ought to be done about Groucho Marx, one of the great men of this century, but the quiz program in which he is now entangled isn’t it. In fact, all of Groucho’s recent enterprises have been somewhat unhappy. He returned to active duty in the movies not long ago in something called “Copacabana.” The critics took a dim view of this venture. Then he reappeared on the air on this quiz show, which is called “You Bet Your Life,” and the radio critics—an ill-fed, ill-housed, ill-clothed group who are not accepted socially in the higher echelons of criticism—again expressed disdain.
“You Bet Your Life” has many of the old wrinkles of quiz shows—people from Brooklyn who know everything, people from Brooklyn who don’t know anything, offstage voices telling you things the contestants don’t know, secret words and, of course, lots and lots of cash. However, there is one new wrinkle. They gamble on this program. Heaven knows what the church groups or the societies for the suppression of all enjoyable activities are going to say when they get wind of this lamentable undertaking, but that’s what they do. They bet money. It must be, the way I figure it, somehow unlawful. It sounds too pleasant to be quite legal.
A contestant is endowed by the sponsors with 30 clams, any part of which he can bet that he knows the answer to the question Groucho is about to ask him. The odds in this gambling hell run from even money to 3 to 1, and there are four questions, any one of which could be answered by Clifton Finnegan in his sleep. This part of the program, I guess, is designed shamefully to arouse the kibitzer that lurks in all of us, and in my case is succeeded in an unexpected way. I was just exasperated by the timidity of these amateurs, and I imagine all the real gamblers were completely alienated. If my arithmetic is in any sort of condition, a bettor could run his 30 fish into 1,440 slugs, provided he plunged his whole wad all along the line. The best anyone did the other night was slightly over 200 bucks. What a bunch of tinhorns.
Groucho is obviously on the wrong end of the betting table here. During his whole career in show business he has earnestly attempted to relieve suckers of the tedium of carrying too much money around. Here he is passing the stuff out in handfuls to the same sort of people he once took it away from. He does it gracefully but his heart clearly isn’t in it. If I had anything to do with this program, things would be changed around completely. The contestants would have to bring their own dough and Marx would see how much he could get away from them by hook or by crook, preferably the latter.
This would be the revolution in quiz programs that everyone has been seeking since “Information, Please” started all the quiz nonsense. After all, if 10 or 20 million radio listeners can get aroused about Mrs. Sadie Glotz winning a four-motored bomber, think how much more excited they'd get if she lost something equally valuable — her life savings, her home, her husband’s business, her husband.
This program would have all the excitement of a quiz contest with the agony of soap opera.
Well, let's get back to “You Bet Your Life” Groucho, an expert at insult, is seriously inhibited by the necessity of being polite to the amateurs, though once in awhile he applies a touch of acid where it’s most needed. To one precocious urchin, whom, I’m sure, he loathed, he remarked: “You’re 10 years old, eh? Have you always been 10 years old?”
I also rather liked a passage of arms between Groucho and a young man who was explaining how he met his wife.
“You see, I drive a truck,” said this young man.
“You ran over her?” inquired Groucho.
"No. No, you see, she works in a restaurant.”
“I don’t understand. You drove the truck into the restaurant?”
Here the young man started all over again and explained that he was driving his truck out to the country to pick up some turkeys at a farm. “The farmer told me I’d find some turkeys out in the barn.”
"And your wife was among them?" asked Groucho.
This is not all characteristic of most of the program, which on the whole is not a satisfactory answer to the problem of what to do with Groucho Marx. I regret to hear that on Dec. 24 "You Bet Your Life" will replace the Jack Paar show on ABC, 930 p m., Wednesdays, which means that a routine quiz is taking the place of one of the brightest and wittiest new voices to be heard on the air for some time.

Crosby warmed up to the show. This review was published January 14, 1949.

MASTER WHO WON’T QUIZ
Groucho Marx who is considered here periodically for no special reason except that he’s a very funny fellow, is on the agenda again. The excuse this time is that he was selected by the nation’s radio editors as the best quiz master on the air, an infinitely dubious honor which Groucho nevertheless accepted graciously.
“It just goes to show that a man with a moustache can get elected,” he said when informed of his peculiar distinction.
I’m not sure what the requirements for good quizmasting are exactly. (Possession of an encyclopedia is one, I suppose.) Whatever they are, Groucho, I’m sure, hasn’t them but he is certainly the funniest quiz master around and easily the most sardonic, generally acting as if he loathed the profession.
At insulting the contestants, if that’s one of the necessary characteristics of quiz masters, he has no peer. “That’s as shifty an answer as I’ve ever heard,” he complains to the stumblebums. If there’s any hesitancy, Groucho asks solicitously: “You’re still alive, I presume.”
As he did in the movies and on the stage, Groucho manages to inject a leer into the most innocent references. When a woman complains that her husband didn’t buy her clothes, he remarked smoothly: “Doesn’t he ever wonder where they come from?”
“Which are the best customers,” he asked a salesman, “men or women?”
“There isn’t any difference.”
“No difference between men and women? You stick to your business and I’ll stick to mine.”
Groucho is also an expert at rapping his clients by indirection. He blithely told a second-hand car dealer and auctioneer, “Regardless of what I think, you’re probably both honest men.” The puns are outrageous (Is it true that Rexall is a drug on the market?”) and many of the jokes are, too, but Groucho utters them with such insouciant determination that they’re funnier than they ought to be.
Groucho’s greatest contribution to the art of quizzing people is his extraordinary talent for avoiding it.
Ha usually consumes the first 11 minutes of a half-hour show without asking any questions at all. Or at least, any questions that require answers. He may ask a stockbroker what functions he performs “besides giving people bum advice.”
Naturally, he can’t keep this up forever though he tries, with conspicuous gallantry. The quiz malarkey, when it finally comes, is as silly as most and maybe a little sillier. If there are any questions in there that your 11-year-old daughter can't answer, I’d send her back to second grade.
There is, of course, a jackpot question and this, I admit, your daughter may have some trouble with. The contestants rarely get their mits on the $1,500 dangled in front of them for this baby.
The Groucho Marx program, officially known as “Bet Your Life” (ABC 9:30 p. m. Wednesdays), has one unusual gimmick in it. The contestants are endowed by the sponsor with $20, any part of which they can bet with Marx on their ability to answer his questions. If they’re smart, they’ll shoot the works all along the line. A college professor ran his stake up to $420. Following that, Groucho muttered that no one who got past the sixth grade would ever be allowed on the program again. Come to think of it I don’t think any one has, either.

And, finally, this review from February 15, 1950. Crosby’s phoning it in. He basically lets Groucho and the contestants write his column for him.

THE SALTIEST
The Groucho Marx show, formally titled "This Is Your Life" (CBS 9 p.m. Wednesday), still provides the saltiest humor anywhere on the air. If there are any others in the house in addition to myself who collect Marxisms, here are a few for your files.
Some time ago, Marx teamed up Admiral Frederick C. Sherman (retired), former commander of the battleship Missouri, with Apprentice Seaman John Stafford as a pair of quiz contestants. The sailor was pretty nervous and Marx asked him:
"What's the matter--is this the first time you've been close to a microphone?"
"No," said the seaman. "It's the first time I've been this close to an admiral."
Marx glanced up at the admiral and remarked: "You look nervous too. Is this the first time you've been this close to a sailor?"
Then there was the time he asked a mother how much her child ate a day.
"Besides baby food—four bottles a day," she said.
"He eats four bottles a day?" said Groucho. "When you burp him, isn't there danger of flying glass?"
A couple of weeks ago he had a long exchange with a public school official which went approximately like this:
GROUCHO: How old are you?
OFFICIAL: I'm 30, Groucho.
GROUCHO: Judging from my experience, you'd be about in seventh grade. What exactly do you do?
OFFICIAL: I'm the liaison man between the home and the school. I'm the one they send out when they try to find out why a child is not in school.
GROUCHO: You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a truant officer.
OFFICIAL: We don't call it that any more.
GROUCHO: When I was a kid we had other names for them too.
OFFICIAL: I remember a time when I visited a home and asked for the mother of a boy . . .
GROUCHO: I've done that too.
OFFICIAL: Before I knew what was happening I was helping the delivery of a child.
GROUCHO: And you were expecting that child in school. You certainly grab them young, I tell you what. Let's have a demonstration. You pretend I'm a high achool boy. I'm not in school and you run into me at Sam's poolroom.
OFFICIAL: Its only fifth period, Groucho. You should be in geometry class.
GROUCHO: I'll play the six ball in the side pocket.
There was a lot more but that's enough of that.
Some weeks back Groucho dredged up a female square dance caller. "Isn't that a rather peculiar occupation for a woman?" he asked.
"Well, it might be," the woman said. "But I think women can do anything men can."
"You think so?" said Groucho. "I'd like to see you get into the steam room at the Elks Club." And later, after she'd described a bit more of her odd profession, Groucho sighed: "Well, I've learned a lot about America tonight. It won't be long before we are investigated."
The closest anyone has come to stopping Groucho recently was a Mrs. Marion Story, of Bakersfield, Cal., who said she had 20 children. Groucho turned to Mr. Story and gasped "Is this true?" The husband confessed that it was.
There was a stunned silence and then Groucho whispered into the microphone to his unseen audience. "Apparently nothing has happened in the last few seconds, anyway."

“You Bet Your Life” carried on until 1961. Fortunately, the show had been shot on film and, even more fortunately, reels upon reels of film were rescued from certain death in the 1970s, repackaged (the editing left a lot to be desired at times), and a whole new generation got to enjoy Groucho’s wit.

Asustado Pussy Gato

The startle/leaping/bash gag is an old but hardy one in cartoons. Mike Maltese dug it up for Friz Freleng in “Here Today, Gone Tamale” (released 1959).



More brush strokes and outlines as Sylvester tries to clobber Speedy.



Sylvester is into a conjoint eye stage at this point of his career.



Maltese worked on this cartoon because Freleng’s writer, Warren Foster, had quit to work for John Sutherland Productions. In fact, by the time this cartoon was released, Maltese was writing at Hanna-Barbera.

How One Equals Four

Tex Avery doesn’t waste any time going from one gag to the next in Jerky Turkey. There’s a scene where the turkey tries to escape the pilgrim hunter by jumping into a hollow log. It lasts eight seconds, long enough for Tex to do one of those split-apart-into-multiple-character gags of his.



The quarter note that accompanies the separated pilgrim whistling for the others may seem redundant but it adds nicely to the visuals.

Ray Abrams, Preston Blair and Ed Love are the animators. And, no, Bill Thompson and Daws Butler were nowhere near California when the voice track for this cartoon was recorded at MGM.

Jack Benny's Car is Goofy

Question: what famous cartoon voice actor first supplied the sounds of Jack Benny’s Maxwell?

If you guessed Mel Blanc, you’re wrong. It’s that guy in the picture to the right.

Pinto Colvig had a fascinating life. He was a cartoonist, a musician, a Keystone Kop, an early TV kids show star, a gag writer, a recording star (as Bozo the Clown) and, at one time, the voice of Goofy in the 1930 Disney cartoons. And he, somehow, found time to gain employment from Jack Benny.

Benny’s Maxwell was first mentioned on the Jell-O Program of October 24, 1937 but Blanc didn’t provide its sounds until March 23, 1947. Transcribed effects handled much of the load until then, assisted for a period by Colvig, who left Hollywood in 1939 for a job at the Fleischer cartoon studio in Florida. This syndicated story is courtesy of the Schoharie Republican of February 17, 1938.

‘AIR CHAUFFEUR’ MAKES ‘MAXWELL’ WHEEZE, GROAN FOR BENNY
“HOW DO you make Maxwell sound like a Maxwell when it isn't a Maxwell?”
This in effect, is the most frequent question asked of recent weeks in the thousands of letters Jack Benny has received in regard to his sound-effects auto. Pinto Colvig is the man responsible for the development of the apparatus which is the “Maxwell of the Air.”
It is he who operates it so skillfully that many persons are prompted to inquire whether or not Jack has a real Maxwell on the stage of the NBC studio. Colvig, Hollywood's most unusual sound effects engineer, is a veteran of both radio and animated cartoon sound effects.
He was consulted regarding effects for the venerable Benny vehicle following the first broadcast on which the Maxwell was mentioned.
He uses the “south end” of the trombone for the sound of the car's starting motor.
The battered washboiler with mounted electric motor gives a perfect imitation of a rickety jillopy [sic] rolling down a bumpy road.
The rattle, cowbell, steel plate, and coffee can mounted on a board, when beaten with a wooden hammer, create an illusion of things dropping off the Maxwell.
The mechanical effects, together with whistles, screams, chugs and wheezes supplied by Pinto himself, constitute the working parts of Jack's famous Maxwell.
Jack calls the talented sound effects engineer his “air chauffeur,” and no name could be more accurate.
For Colvig is the only fellow who's ever actually “driven” the Benny bus.
LIKE Phil Baker's “Beetle” and Edgar Bergen's “Charlie McCarthy,” Benny's Maxwell is a rich source of gags.
Many of the heartiest guffaws traced to the Benny program come by way of this mythical auto.
In this day of ever-increasing difficulty in obtaining gag material, Benny finds his gas buggy a handy solution for script troubles.

Laura Leff’s excellent reference book 39 Forever lists Colvig as making only six appearances with Benny, two in 1937, two in 1938 and two in 1942. He was the Maxwell in only the first two. In the final pair (by that time, Colvig had left Florida and found work at the MGM cartoon studio), he played Benny’s short-lived and long-forgotten horse Leona. The Benny show featured another horse, far better remembered, of the English variety, played with relish by one Mel Blanc. Colvig was multi-talented but he just can’t get out of Mel’s shadow when it comes to working with Jack Benny.